I was so pleased with a bit of my writing today (that was mostly BZP appropriate, no less!) that I wanted to share it.

Granted, no one on this site has shown any particular interest in my novel, but hey, what the heck? Maybe someone will like it.

Henry Brickwick was perched in the shadow of the colossal metal monument that had given him a shock earlier. At least, he figured it was a monument; he couldn’t think of any other reason for something so large and vaguely shaped like a face. He dusted off a spot on what looked like an enormous foot mostly buried in the sand so he could sit, but paused when he noticed some lettering.

 

“M.O.A.I...” he muttered. He shrugged, and promptly sat his fat [rear] on the foot. He pulled a slightly-crushed box of bonbons out of his coat. He dusted it off, opened it, and started plucking out treats to shove into his face (in a dignified way, of course.) Every now and then he’d pick one, inspect it, and decided it was too crushed for him, and flick it into the sand, giggling as little creatures that looked like whip scorpions fought over it. He flicked another one out only for it to be caught in mid-air by an obsidian-carapaced fist. He gave a squeak of fright as the owner of the fist strode proudly out in front of him.

 

It was five and a half feet tall (four inches taller than Brickwick himself) and iridescent black. Its wings were too small to lift it off the ground, but were flared out, and featured brilliant red eyespots, which it would occasionally tilt to glint the light as though they were moving. Its four arms were thick and somewhat spiny, their carapace rough and scarred, hands wrapped in some sort of cloth like a boxer. Its eyes were blood red and covered with hexagonal lenses, which were difficult to read, but Brickwick suspected they were trained on him. It lifted the bonbon up in front of the businessman’s quivering face, and its tubular mouthparts suddenly convulsed strangely, as though forming shapes it was not made to.

 

“I don’t like waste,” it gasped. Not gasp as in the reaction; that is simply the best word to describe how this creature spoke English. It was clearly fluent, but it was like trying to speak through a large intestine in how it was formed and released. Brickwick blinked.

 

“I-I’m sorr-sorry,” he stuttered. The creature tucked its wings back in pulled its hand back, causing the man to flinch, but it was only putting the bonbon up to its mouthparts, sucking it up like the sentient vacuum from the Teletubbies. Brickwick could only watch as the bonbon bulge was sucked up into the head, where various mouthparts started clicking into motion to dissect it. He was transfixed until the creature tilted its head to the side curiously.

 

“Is it not rude in your culture to stare at someone as they eat?” it wheezed. A few flecks of bonbon started to dribble out of the proboscis, only to be sucked back in. Brickwick blinked a few times and turned his head toward the horizon.

 

“I-I apologize,” he stammered. “I-I’ve just never seen something like you before.” He straightened his tie nervously, even though it was already so tight it was like a noose. “I’m n-not from around here.” The creature tipped its head to the other side, and Brickwick pointed to the sky. “I fell. From up there.” It scratched its head hairs a bit then waggled its wings.

 

“I see,” it said. “You fell with the Skygifts.”

 

“Skygifts?”

 

This time the creature pointed to the sky. “Things fall from the sky occasionally. Sometimes ring rocks, sometimes metal. I lead teams into the desert with my Brother to retrieve them.” It seemed a little preoccupied. Brickwick followed its gaze as best he could to his box of bonbons. He extended it to the creature like a mildly-phobic child reaching to pet a dog, and recoiled his hand immediately as it snatched it from his hands and immediately shoved another treat up its proboscis.

 

“So which one of these is your brother?” he asked as non-chalantly as he could as a strange insectoid scarfed his expensive chocolate treats. The creature started convulsing strangely, rubbing its legs together to produce a strange sort of chirp, and it took Brickwick a while to realize it was laughing, in its own sort of alien way.

 

“Trust me, if one of these was my Brother, you’d know. No, he’s after a bigger Skygift than I today.” It leaned in so close, Brickwick could smell the semi-digested chocolate odor wafting from its proboscis.

 

“Bigger?” The businessman eyed a few similar creatures who appeared to be dismantling as much of his escape pod as possible to carry away with them in strange greenish-grey sacks. He gulped nervously.

 

“Much bigger. Left a divet in the sand as wide as the Mansion.” The creature rubbed its four hands together. “Got any more of those dung-like pastries?”